A TALE 


OF  • 


Rome 


A STORY  BY  R1XP0RD  J.  RISC0L1 


Chapter  I — In  the  Catacombs. 
Chapter  II  — A Festival  Day  in  Rome. 
Chapter  III  — The  Prison  — The  Rescue. 
Chapter  IV  — In  Cesar’s  Garden. 
Chapter  V — The  Warning. 

Chapter  VI  — In  the  Home  oe  Marcus  — The 
Temptation. 

Chapter  VII  — The  Trial. 


NEW  ORLEANS 
PHILIPPE’S  PRINTERY,  614-616  ST.  LOUIS  STREET, 
lOOO 


' 


This  volume  is  affectionately  dedicated  to  my 
dear  Aunt  Suzette,  who  has  so  well 
and  so  nobly  filled  the  part  of 
mother. 


A TALE  OF  PAGAN  ROME. 


CHAPTER  I. 

IN  THE  CATACOMBS. 

Deep  down  in  the  subterranean  caverns  of  the  Catacombs, 
amid  the  dreary  solitude  of  its  winding  passages  and  lugubrious 
crypts,  a band  of  staunch  Christians,  each  holding  a lighted 
taper,  knelt  on  the  cold  clammy  stones  to  receive  a blessing 
from  one  of  the  leaders  of  their  company,  a venerable  patriarch. 
The  old  man,  with  uplifted  arms  stretching  over  the  multitude, 
blessed  them  with  the  sacred  sign  of  the  cross  — that  cross  for 
which  they  were  ready  to  lay  down  their  lives. 

The  candles  flickered  and  flared  weiridly  in  the  damp  air, 
fanned  by  the  ghosts  of  the  wind  which  penetrated  through  the 
cracks  in  the  rocks,  of  this  gloomy  abode,  and  grim  shadows 
fell  athwart  the  group  of  men,  women  and  children  gathered 
there,  whilst  their  untrained  voices  rose  solemnly  in  a plaintive 
chant  that  echoed  and  re-echoed  through  the  hollows  of  the 
place. 

One  of  their  number  arose,  a boy  of  about  fourteen  or  fif- 
teen, of  graceful  limb  and  angelic  countenance,  a face  which 
reflected  his  pure  young  soul,  unpolluted  by  the  corruption  of 
Rome.  His  voice  sounded  like  music  as  he  addressed  the  old 
man.  u Father,’7  he  said : u we  have  one  amongst  us  this  even- 
ing who  wishes  to  embrace  the  faith  of  Christ.77 

“ Praise  be  to  the  good  God,  another  soul  rescued  from 
Kero  and  the  darkness  of  paganism,  another  hand  to  strengthen 
us  on  our  way.77  As  the  old  man  spoke,  he  placed  his  wrinkled, 
withered  hand  gently  on  the  boy’s  fair  head,  and  asked : u where 
is  the  one  of  whom  you  speak,  my  child  f 77 


4 


No  one  had  noticed  a small  form  crouched  a little  distance 
from  the  group,  near  the  wall,  hidden  in  a dark  cloak  that  com- 
pletely envelopped  the  body,  leaving  naught  but  the  face  visible. 
The  old  man  had  hardly  ceased  speaking,  when  the  tremulous 
voice  of  a girl  in  silvery  accents  like  the  notes  of  a fledgelliug 
bird,  answered : “ I am  here,  Father ; I wish  to  be  baptized  to- 
night.’’ 

Everyone  turned  in  astonishment  as  the  cloak  fell  from  the 
girl,  and  revealed  a vision  of  loveliness,  a tiny  blonde,  whose 
curls  rippled  like  waves  around  her  chaste  figure,  and  whose 
eyes  smiled  with  anxious  joy. 

u What ! ” all  exclaimed  as  they  beheld  her,  “ what,”  were 
the  words  of  astonishment  that  fell  from  their  lips  with  one 
voice,  “’tis  Lydia,  the  daughter  of  the  brave  Roman  General 
Marcus  Vitellus.” 

The  girl’s  dress  contrasted  strangely  with  the  plain  coarse 
garb  of  the  Christians,  as  she  stood  before  them  clad  in  some 
rich  stuff  of  bright  color,  and  a gold  necklace  was  fastened 
around  her  white  neck,  the  only  jewel  that  adorned  her  person. 

u Yes,”  Lydia  replied;  “no  one  at  the  palace  knows  I am 
here.  I stole  away  with  a faithful  slave,  it  is  Yincinnius  who 
converted  me  and  brought  me  here,”  she  said,  pointing  to  the 
boy  who  had  spoken  to  the  patriarch. 

Then  she  related  how  she  had  seen  Yincinnius  one  day  on 
the  street,  that  she  had  carelessly  let  some  flowers  fall,  which  he 
ran  to  return  to  her ; they  had  spoken,  children  that  they  were? 
a friendship  grew  between  them,  they  met  secretly,  for  it  was 
forbidden  to  hold  intercourse  with  the  Christians  without  reason, 
and  Yincinnius  explained  to  her  the  religion  of  Christ,  finally 
inducing  her  to  be  converted  to  the  true  faith.  Yincinnius  had 
triumphed,  Lydia  was  now  here  to  embrace  the  faith  of  the  true 
God,  and  she  knelt  humbly  on  the  cold  stones,  whilst  the  old 
man  baptized  her  with  the  sacred  sign  of  the  cross,  and  another 
stray  sheep  was  received  into  the  fold  of  the  Heavenly  Shep- 
herd. 

The  ceremony  was  over,  all  hastened  silently  away,  hiding 


5 


in  the  shadows  and  dispersing  to  their  secret  hiding  places,  v 
leaving  the  catacombs  solitary  and  dark  with  the  sanctified 
dust  of  martyrs,  but  over  which  the  smile  of  God  rested  like  a 
dove  of  peace. 

Lydia  and  the  slave  went  out  into  the  night,  followed  by 
Vincinnius,  trembling  with  the  excitement  of  his  joy.  Lydia 
turned  and  smiled.  “ I thank  thee,  friend,  for  all  thou  hast 
done  for  me,”  and  her  face  lit  up  with  a sweet  holy  light  as  she 
spoke,  the  divine  grace  of  God  already  shining  from  her  soul 
regenerated  in  the  living  waters  of  baptism. 

“But  thou  wilt  return  tomorrow?”  eagerly  questioned 
Vincinnius. 

“ I hope  so,”  she  gently  replied. 

“But  thou  must  come  back,”  Vincinnius  said.  “If  they 
know  in  Rome  that  thou  art  a Christian,  the  people  will  go  wild, 
and  thy  father’s  life  will  be  in  danger.  Thou  must  come  back 
to  us  to  receive  strength  and  courage,  to  eat  the  Bread  of  Life. 
We  must  save  thy  father’s  soul  and  pray  for  him.” 

“ Then  I will  promise,”  she  sweetly  said.  “ To  morrow  I 
will  be  at  the  catacombs  at  the  hour  the  Christians  meet.” 

Vincinnius  clasped  her  hand  so  soft  and  white,  as  it  rested 
in  his  palm,  each  felt  a thrill  of  ecstacy  run  through  their  veins 
— it  was  love,  a bond  of  union  between  two  pure  souls,  a marriage 
of  spiritual  birth,  a holy,  innocent  love  — not  the  sordid  passion 
of  Rome’s  voluptuaries.  Their  hands  met  and  fell,  and  in  that 
touch  their  souls  reached  out  to  each  other  like  two  lights  flash- 
ing through  the  dark,  each  mingling  with  the  other  and  flowing 
into  one  bright  luminous  whole. 

Lydia  whispered  “farewell  until  to-morrow,”  and  her  girlish 
voice  died  on  the  still  air,  as  she  disappeared  with  her  slave  into 
the  falling  darkness  and  was  soon  lost  from  sight.  Vincinnius 
stood  watching  her  long,  until  a brother  Christian  roused  him 
from  his  reverie  and  joining  him,  they  too  went  on  their  way. 
Lydia  had  gone  back  to  the  gayeties  and  temptations  of  a 
Roman  court,  and  Vincinnius  to  the  austerities  and  solitude  of 
a Christian’s  secret  home. 


6 


' A solitary  star  rested  like  a diamond  on  the  soft  violet 
breast  of  Night,  and  a mellow  moon  was  bursting  from  a 
cloud,  shooting  forth  brilliant  darts  of  light  from  her  crystal 
mouth,  as  they  fell  over  the  shadows,  and  spangled  them  with 
patches  of  frosty  whiteness.  Lydia  hastened  homewards,  but 
did  not  see  a man’s  form  as  she  passed  rapidly  on,  nor  did  she 
notice  him  watch  her  closely  as  she  emerged  into  the  moonlight, 
which  suddenly  framed  her  in  a haze  of  brightness,  and  he 
sighed  as  he  gazed  on  her,  but  then  frowned  as  if  in  anger  and 
then  went  his  way.  It  was  Decimus  Antonius,  her  father’s 
friend,  to  whom  he  had  promised  her  hand.  He  had  seen  her 
coming  from  the  catacombs,  heard  her  talking  to  Yincinnius 
would  he  keep  her  secret  ? 


CHAPTER  II. 

A FESTIVAL  DAY  IN  ROME. 

It  was  a festival  day  in  Rome.  Her  streets  were  thronged 
with  gay  crowds  of  pleasure-seekers,  going  and  coming  from  the 
baths  before  the  procession  would  pass,  and  many  a Roman 
lady’s  litter  was  surrounded  by  groups  of  soldiers  or  princes 
high  in  rank,  stopping  to  pay  court  to  some  favored  beauty. 

Many  windows  were  draped  with  rich  tapestries  of  beautiful 
designs  and  rich  hues,  which  hung  low  over  the  porticos  or  bal- 
conies, whilst  some  houses  (those  of  the  richer  class),  were  also 
decorated  with  flowers,  whose  strong  odors  perfumed  the  atmos. 
phere  sickeningly,  and  penetrated  everywhere.  Roman  ladies 
and  young  girls  were  seated  at  the  windows,  throwing  roses  idly 
away,  or  toying  with  them,  some  tossing  them  playfully  to 
youths  who  passed  on  the  street  below.  Slaves  fanned  them  or 
sang  to  them,  as  they  reclined  gracefully  on  couches,  with  no 
care  of  the  morrow,  living  only  for  the  present,  the  pleasures  of 
the  hour. 


7 


Among  the  carried  litters,  one  was  stopped  by  its  occupant, 
a young  girl,  who  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  some  one,  as  she 
scanned  the  motely  crowd,  and  many  women  passing  to  and  fro 
decked  in  jewels  and  paint,  bowed  or  wave  hands  to  her.  Cox- 
combs suffered  themselves  also  to  be  carried  by  their  slaves  to 
the  baths,  and  all  craned  their  necks  to  gaze  at  this  girl,  who 
was  deemed  to  be  the  future  beauty  of  Eome,  as  they  smiled 
at  her  or  shook  their  rose-crowned  heads  in  admiration  of 
her  charms.  But  she  heeded  them  not,  it  was  not  admiration 
she  sought,  she  was  waiting  for  some  one.  Soldiers,  singing 
girls,  children,  all  were  there,  with  no  thought  but  the  enjoy- 
ment of  the  senses,  no  desire  but  pleasure. 

She  turned  her  gaze  towards  the  Tiber,  whose  yellow, 
flowing  waters  presented  a scene  of  animation.  Barges  filled 
with  rollicking  crowds  of  merry-makers  floated  listlessly  on  the 
lambent  waves,  which  licked  the  sides  of  the  boats,  and  joined 
in  unison  to  the  music  that  palpitated,  fell  and  died  in  echoes 
over  the  waters.  The  sun  from  the  blue  skies  above  shone 
down  on  the  scene  and  set  the  Tiber,  the  streets,  palaces  and 
dwellings  aflame  in  a glory  of  dazzling  light. 

Disappointed,  the  girl  ordered  her  slaves  to  carry  her  on- 
wards. But  it  was  too  late,  the  royal  guards  were  there,  bring- 
ing the  crowds  to  order,  and  clearing  the  way  for  the  coming 
parade. 

The  procession  drew  near ; little  girls  and  boys,  whose  rosy 
limbs  were  scantily  clad,  headed  the  parade,  and  scattered  roses 
on  their  path ; then,  the  golden  idols  guarded  by  the  high-priests 
of  the  temples,  were  carried  in  great  triumph  and  solemnity  by 
swarthy,  strongly-built  slaves,  whose  muscles  were  strained 
beneath  the  ponderous  weight  of  these  barbaric  symbols,  and  as 
they  passed  the  people  bowed  low  in  reverence,  all  save  the  girl 
who  looked  placidly  but  unconcernedly  upon  the  spectacle.  The 
soldiers  followed  next,  magnificent  warriors  whose  armor  shone 
brightly  as  silver,  as  it  shook  on  their  breast,  whilst  their  fiery 
horses  pranced  to  the  sounds  of  martial  music.  Marcus  Vitellus 
passed,  and  as  he  went  by,  the  girl  in  the  litter  drew  back  the 


8 


curtain,  for  Lydia  did  not  wish  her  father  to  know  that  she  was 
there,  when  she  should  have  been  at  home. 

Then,  the  noble,  the  mighty  Caesar  came — Nero,  the  blood- 
thirsty, cruel  tyrant  was  borne  along  in  a magnificent  golden 
chariot,  seated  on  a high  throne  from  which  his  obese  body 
waddled  as  the  equipage  jolted  over  the  rough  road  way.  Nero 
was  happy.  The  proud  cynosure  of  all  eyes,  the  adored,  the 
admired  master  of  Borne  was  out  in  public,  for  all  to  feast  their 
eyes  on  his  sacred  person.  His  puffed  cheeks  puckered  into  a 
sensual  smile,  and  his  watery  eyes  rolled  in  his  laurel- wreathed 
head,  which  swayed  unsteadily  from  side  to  side,  for  wine  had 
already  touched  his  brain ; and  there  he  sat  waving  to  a favored 
few  with  his  royal  hand,  which  to  day  might  fondle,  and  to- 
morrow strike  a blow. 

The  spectacle  had  passed,  the  crowds  ran  hither  and  thither, 
cheering  Nero  on  his  way.  At  last  Lydia  espies  Yincinnins  in 
the  distance,  a word  from  her  slave  and  he  is  at  her  side. 
Lydia  motions  her  slaves  to  stand  aside,  cautioning  them  to 
silence,  for  it  is  dangerous  for  her  to  hold  converse  publicly 
with  a Christian  almost  before  the  face  of  Nero.  u O,  Yincin- 
nius,” she  whispers ; u make  haste,  we  are  watched,  this  is  dan- 
gerous,” Lydia  said  as  he  approached  her. 

u I fear  naught  for  myself,”  he  replied ; u it  is  thee  alone 
for  whom  I tremble.  Thou  didst  not  come  last  night,  thou  hast 
broken  thy  promise,  what  kept  thee  away  ! ” . 

u Hush,  speak  lower,”  she  answers,  u some  one  may  hear  us. 
I could  not  come,”  she  continues.  “ I was  watched,  my  father 
suspects  something.  If  Nero  knew  I was  a Christian,  my 
father’s  head  might  answer  for  it,”  she  replied  with  tears  in  her 
eyes. 

u True,  true,”  Yincinnius  answered. 

They  had  hardly  ceased  speaking,  when  a young  man,  a 
soldier,  tall  and  robust,  handsome,  but  on  whose  face  was  written 
a life  of  dissipation  and  vice,  approached  them.  Yincinnius 
well  knew  this  voluptuary  of  Borne  by  reputation,  for  his  ban 
quets,  rather  orgies,  vied  with  those  of  Caesar  himself,  and  he 


9 


shuddered  as  he  saw  him  take  Lydia’s  hand.  In  a rollicking, 
familiar  manner,  he  addressed  Lydia  thus : u Ha,  my  sweet 
Lydia,  out  for  an  airing,  thy  beauty  grows  daily,  why  wast  thou 
not  at  the  palace  to  witness  the  parade  ? Thou  hast  been  de- 
layed, but  ah,  I see,  thou  hast  a little  friend  with  thee.  I saw 
thee  whispering  to  him,  who  is  this  boy,  tell  me.  I should  know 
all  thy  secrets.”  And  stooping,  he  bent  low  over  Lydia,  and 
tried  to  kiss  her.  Yincinnius  saw  the  soldier’s  reeling  form,  for 
wine  had  heated  him,  and  boiling  with  rage  as  Lydia,  screaming, 
commanded  him  to  desist  and  begone,  he  flung  himself  on  the 
man  and  pushed  him  forcibly  away,  crying  out:  “Away,  thou 
drunken  brute ! ” 

Antonius  (for  it  was  he),  in  moving  backward  from  the 
force  of  Yincinnius’  attack,  stumbled,  and  fell  sprawling  on  the 
ground,  amid  the  loud  jeers  and  laughs  of  the  crowd. 

Antonius  raised  his  dagger,  but  Lydia  cried:  u Coward,  to 
hurt  a defenceless  boy ! ” 

Stung  with  rage  from  his  fall,  and  furious  at  the  thought 
of  being  not  only  thwarted  but  disgraced  and  humiliated  by  a 
boy,  before  everyone  on  the  public  streets,  Antonius  called  some 
guards  and  ordered  Yincinnius  bound  hand  and  foot,  and  car- 
ried to  prison.  As  Yincinnius  was  being  dragged  off,  Antonius 
struck  him  with  his  bare  fist  on  the  forehead,  and  the  boy’s 
head  fell  back  and  he  knew  no  more.  The  last  Yincinnius  had 
seen  of  Lydia,  was  her  fainting  form  borne  away  by  her  slaves. 

Antonius  hurried  off,  amid  the  cries  of  the  infuriated  people. 
“ For  shame,”  they  cried  ; u fie  on  thee,  Antonius,  thou  art  not  a 
man!— the  villain! — the  coward!”  Such  sounds  as  these 
greeted  his  ear,  but  he  heeded  them  not  and  strutted  off  with 
libertine  friends  like  himself,  still  holding  his  side,  and  limping 
on  his  way,  for  his  fall  had  been  a heavy  one. 

Thus  the  Festival  day  in  Rome  had  come  and  gone,  weaving 
a web  of  fate  around  the  lives  of  Lydia  and  Yincinnius, 


10 


CHAPTER  III. 

IN  PRISON  — THE  RESCUE. 

Vincinnius  awoke.  He  knew  not  where  he  was,  for  the 
place  was  cold  and  dark,  a green  slimy  dampness  clung  to  the 
walls,  on  which  lizards  and  insects  crawled,  and  a horrible 
stench  as  of  decaying  bodies,  impregnated  the  atmosphere 
therein  and  sickened  him,  until  he  thought  he  would  faint  and 
die.  This  surely  could  not  be  the  Catacombs  which  he  knew  so 
well.  As  he  lay  there  thinking  and  wondering,  of  a sudden  his 
memory  rushed  back  to  his  brain,  and  then  he  recollected  all 
the  street  parade,  his  defense  of  Lydia,  the  attack  on  Marcus, 
and  his  imprisonment.  As  he  thought  of  the  exciting  scenes  he 
had  passed  through,  he  felt  he  could  kill  Antonius  were  he  near 
him,  but  his  anger  softened,  as  he  seemed  to  hear  a voice  whis- 
pering to  him : u Peace,  be  still,  vengeance  is  mine,  love  your 
enemies,  do  good  to  those  that  persecute  you.”  Then  he  wept, 
for  he  was  but  a child,  there  alone  and  friendless,  but  he  grew 
quieter  as  he  prayed  silently  for  strength  in  the  time  of  trial 
and  danger,  and  he  knew  that  Christ,  the  great  God  and  Saviour 
of  mankind,  would  not  abandon  him,  even  though  his  enemies 
came  to  torture  his  body,  they  could  not  attack  his  immortal 
soul.  The  place  was  so  dark  that  it  frightened  him,  he  who 
was  so  brave  on  the  public  streets  of  Rome,  now  trembled  in  the 
darkness.  He  feared  not  death,  but  he  longed  for  light,  just  a 
little  light,  a little  ray  from  the  orb  of  day  to  soften  the  ugly 
shadows  around,  and  to  comfort  his  weary  heart. 

Vincinnius  knew  not  how  long  he  had  lain  here.  Was  it  a 
day,  a week  or  months  S After  he  had  been  gagged  and  bound, 
he  had  felt  a blow  on  his  forehead,  he  saw  the  uplifted  hand  of 
Antonius  descend  on  him,  he  heard  Lydia  cry  out  in  pain,  he  saw 
her  borne  away  insensible  — then  all  was  dark,  all  was  silent, 
and  he  knew  no  more  until  he  awoke  in  this  horrible  dungeon. 
He  could  but  faintly  discern  objects  by  the  uncertain  light 


11 


which  began  to  glimmer  ever  so  faintly  about,  like  the  first 
uncertain  rays  of  dawn  penetrating  the  midnight  darkness  of  a 
lonesome  forest,  adding  a ghostliness  where  it  fell,  and  pictur- 
ing fantastic  shapes  out  of  the  semi-luminous  gloom.  The  light 
that  came  unbidden  to  this  hole  seemed  to  fall  from  a small 
barred  opening  high  up  in  the  wall,  through  which  hardly  a 
breath  of  air  from  Nature’s  pure  woods  or  fields  could  enter, 
or  a single  beam  of  sunshine  could  come  from  the  blue  skies 
forever  shut  out  from  his  sight. 

Hark!  what  was  that?  Strange  noises  filled  the  air  — 
groans  — human  moans  from  pitiable  sufferers  like  himself  in 
this  gloomy  cell,  left  to  rot  and  die,  like  carrion  on  the  desolate 
plains.  Yincinnius  shivered  with  horror,  he  had  heard  of  the 
atrocities  of  roman  prisons,  he  knew  how  Christian  martyrs  were 
tortured  there,  but  though  prepared  as  he  was  to  face  danger  and 
death,  these  things  made  him  shudder  with  agony,  as  the  ter- 
rifying cries  grew  louder,  some  begging  for  mercy,  some  praying 
to  die,  and  others  cursing  God  and  their  fate. 

Were  these  the  wails  of  souls  sent  to  torment  him,  was  he 
lost,  was  this  hell  in  which  he  must  suffer  forever?  No.  It 
could  not  be ; this  was  too  real,  he  lived,  he  breathed,  he  felt, 
he  saw,  he  was  a prisoner  left  to  his  fate  in  this  strange,  awful 
abode,  a human  grave. 

The  light  grew  a little  brighter,  and  he  could  trace  human 
forms  on  the  floor,  outlined  like  grim  monsters  in  the  uncertain 
shadows,  here  an  arm,  there  a leg,  and  there  a face,  features 
most  horrible  to  look  upon,  that  froze  his  soul  with  unknown 
dread.  There  were  some  half -nude,  others  were  covered  with 
loathsome  sores  that  spread  like  tatoo  marks  over  their  filthy, 
ragged  bodies,  and  still  others  lay  quite  still,  nothing  but  skin 
and  bones,  skeletons,  lying  there  putrifying  in  decay.  His  hand 
moved  and  as  it  wandered  on  the  cold  floor,  it  struck  something 
which  he  took  up  in  his  fingers,  but  as  he  raised  it  up  to  his 
eyes,  he  held  in  his  grasp  something  hard  and  white  — it  was  a 
human  bone.  With  a cry  he  threw  the  horrible  thing  away, 
and  he  heard  it  fall  to  the  ground  with  a dull  thud.  He  would 


12 


go  mad  if  he  remained  in  this  place  of  horrors,  and  he  tossed  in 
pain,  in  anxiety  and  dread  on  the  prison  floor,  crying  out : u O 
God,  have  mercy  on  me,  give  me  strength  to  bear  this  cross.” 

Would  he  be  killed  or  tortured  ? These  thoughts  chased 
each  other  one  after  the  other  through  his  distracted  brain,  but 
these  things  were  as  nothing  compared  to  what  suddenly  flashed 
upon  him,  and  made  him  shake  with  a fear  that  would  haunt 
him  here  like  an  uncanny  thing  to  taunt  and  mock  him  night 
and  day. 

Of  a sudden,  he  remembered  that  the  Patriarch  in  the  cata- 
combs had  commissioned  him  to  take  a letter  to  the  Christian 
brethren  in  hiding  outside  of  the  City  of  Borne.  This  letter 
gave  the  brethren  knowledge  of  their  secret  homes,  where  they 
lived  when  not  assembled  in  the  catacombs,  and  told  of  a time 
appointed  for  them  to  meet  in  a body  in  the  catacombs  to  make 
plans  for  their  future  safety,  for  they  were  daily  being  perse- 
cuted. They  needed  recruits  to  fill  their  thinning  ranks.  He 
should  not  have  stopped  to  talk  to  Lydia,  for  then  he  would 
have  been  on  his  way  to  fulfill  the  mission  entrusted  to  him. 
He  accused  himself  of  weakness  and  treachery,  and  was  sorely 
tried  with  tormenting  thoughts.  He  must  hide  the  letter  and 
save  his  brethren  some  way.  He  tried  to  rise,  but  fell  back  on 
the  stones,  for  his  feet  were  chained  to  the  floor.  He  was  pow- 
erless to  move,  defenceless  and  handicapped.  Thank  God ! his 
hands  were  free.  He  eagerly  thrust  his  hands  within  the  folds 
of  his  dress,  as  his  nervous  fingers  felt  for  the  letter  hidden 
in  his  breast.  He  could  not  find  it ; they  had  taken  it  from  him 
perchance,  he  had  been  searched  and  robbed,  his  brethren  would 
perish,  their  secrets  were  known.  His  blood  froze  as  he  thought 
how  he  had  unconsciously  betrayed  his  friends.  He  felt  again, 
his  hand  wandered  beneath  his  dress  and  touched  a hard  sub- 
stance, whilst  his  eager  fingers  caught  something  and  he  wildly 
seized  the  letter  almost  crumpled  to  a knot.  It  was  lucky  that 
it  had  slipped  there  and  when  they  had  searched  him,  nothing 
had  been  found. 

His  secret  was  yet  safe,  and  he  silently  thanked  his  Maker, 


13 


as  a wave  of  relief  spread  over  his  troubled  spirit,  soothing  the 
pain  and  anxiety  that  had  turned  his  heart  into  a seething  caul- 
dron of  doubts  and  fears.  As  he  lay  tossing  on  the  floor,  a 
welcome  light  from  somewhere  suddenly  drifted  like  a narrow 
stream  over  the  dark  prison.  Nearer  it  came,  broadening  and 
deepening,  shifting  here  and  there,  flitting  from  place  to  place, 
lighting  the  grim  walls,  then  falling  downwards,  now  on  this 
side  and  then  on  the  other.  Still  nearer  came  the  light,  like  an 
animal  searching  for  its  prey.  It  lingered  over  the  floor  a brief 
moment,  but  that  moment  was  long  enough  to  reveal  to  Vincin- 
nius  the  pain-dented,  the  distracted  and  distorted  features  of  his 
fellow-prisoners,  as  the  rays  outlined  every  line  on  their  faces, 
enlarging  them  and  shining  on  them  in  mockery,  as  though 
rejoicing  over  their  hideousness. 

At  last  a soldier  accompanied  by  guards  appeared  on  the 
scene.  A guard  let  the  lighted  torch  drop  its  beams  over  every 
face  until  it  fell  upon  Vincinnius,  as  he  felt  its  hot  rays  burn 
his  cheek. 

“ Ah ! hast  thou  found  him  1 ” the  soldier  asked  of  the  guard. 

u ’Tis  he,”  answered  the  guard,  kicking  Vincinnius  with  his 
foot  to  draw  his  attention,  as  though  he  were  a dog  on  the 
street. 

“Wake  up,  boy,”  the  soldier  churlishly  said,  while  his 
coarse,  brutal  voice  grated  on  the  ear  of  Vincinnius  like  the 
hooting  of  an  owl.  66  Get  up,”  he  continued,  “ or  by  Jupiter,  I 
will  split  thee  with  my  sword.”  Thus  speaking,  he  prodded 
him  with  a spear  he  carried. 

Vincinnius  gazed  intently  at  the  speaker,  and  he  at  once 
recognized  the  dissipated  features  of  Antonius,  hardened  still 
more,  it  seemed  to  him.  Vincinnius  unconsciously  shuddered 
as  he  gazed  on  this  brute’s  form  in  man’s  garb,  and  wondered 
what  revenge  was  in  store  for  him.  He  would  die  bravely  at 
all  events,  and  as  the  guard  loosened  his  shackled  feet  and 
pulled  him  roughly  up,  he  reeled  with  giddiness  from  weakness 
and  long  suffering. 


14 


u Art  thou  drunk,  fool,  thou  lazy,  impudent  Christian  pup  1 
Dost  thou  not  remember  me  % 77  angrily  cried  Antonius. 

Vincinnius  scorned  to  answer  his  impudence,  but  held  his 
tongue,  as  he  tried  to  hide  the  crumpled  letter  he  held  in  his 
hand,  whilst  Antonius  gloated  over  him  with  his  bloodshot  eyes. 

“ Ha ! Thou  hast  something,  a letter  in  thy  hand  ? me- 
thought  they  told  me  nothing  was  found  on  thy  person  ? was7t 
not  so  *?  77  he  asked  of  the  guard. 

“ I swear  it,7’  answered  the  guard.  u 7 Tis  a Christian  trick- 
sorcery  that  kept  it  away  from  us.77 

“ Give  me  the  letter,  Vincinnius ; thou  did7st  hide  it  well, 
but  now  I shall  have  it,  by  all  the  gods  ! 77  exultantingly  spoke 
Antonius. 

u Never ! No,  never  shall  I give  it  to  thee,  Decimus  Anto- 
nius, as  long  as  there  is  breath  in  my  body.  I fear  thee  not, 
nor  Caesar  ! 77  proudly  and  defiantly  answered  Vincinnius,  as  he 
thrust  the  paper  back  into  the  folds  of  his  dress,  and  held  one 
hand  over  his  chest  in  defence  of  his  sacred  secret. 

“ Soho ! Thou  would7st  defy  me  ? Fool,  dost  thou  not  know 
my  power  ? We  shall  see  if  I will  not  conquer  thee.  Seize  him, 
guards ! 77  shouted  Antonius. 

The  guards  approached,  but  Vincinnius  quailed  not  before 
them,  nor  did  he  move  an  inch  from  where  he  stood,  with  flash- 
ing eye,  that  spit  fire  into  the  souls  of  the  men  around  him. 
They  tugged  fiercely  at  his  arm,  striving  to  loosen  the  hold  he 
had  on  the  letter,  but  vain  were  their  efforts,  for  his  strength 
had  grown  as  that  of  rock,  as  he  prayed  for  help,  to  Him  who 
could  strike  those  before  him  with  the  lightening  of  his  wrath. 
Vincinnius  felt  the  hour  of  deadly  peril  was  nigh,  and  he  feared 
nothing,  determined  to  die  preserving  his  trust  to  the  end. 

“He  is  brave,  by  Juno,  what  a soldier  he  would  make! 77 
said  Antonius,  as  he  watched  the  men.  “ He  will  not  give  in  f 
then  open  the  pit,77  commanded  Antonius. 

A guard  stepped  aside,  and  a little  distance  off,  opened  a trap 
door  in  the  floor  of  the  prison.  The  guards  dragged  Vincinnius 
to  the  spot,  as  his  legs  scraped  over  the  rough  stones  that  tore 


15 


the  tender  flesh  at  each  step.  They  placed  him  near  the  dark 
hole  and  bade  him  look  down.  Yincinnius  heard  the  furious 
rush  of  waters,  and  as  he  gazed  he  saw  the  black,  filthy  current 
of  the  Tiber  filled  with  refuse  from  the  sewers  of  the  city  flow- 
ing swiftly  on,  ever  onward,  ready  to  carry  its  freight  away 
with  no  one  to  hear  or  know  of  its  victims’  fate  again. 

God,  he  thought.  , What  a death  ! He  shivered  and  prayed 
for  strength.  He  had  lived  and  hoped  to  die  a martyr,  proud  of 
his  sacrifice  of  life  for  Christ,  but  to  meet  death  so  horrible, 
perhaps  to  have  his  secret  torn  from  him,  and  be  a traitor  in 
his  brethren’s  eyes,  made  him  sick  with  a gnawing  fear  that 
griped  at  his  heart  like  a serpent’s  tooth  sucking  his  breath 
away.  Would  he  give  up  ? A terrible  struggle  raged  within  his 
soul,  and  through  the  minutes  of  agony  he  saw  the  form  of 
Lydia,  her  face  smiling,  like  a beacon  light  of  hope  to  cheer  him 
on  his  way. 

The  struggle  went  on.  The  men  closed  on  him.  Again, 
and  again,  their  hot  breath  swept  over  his  face,  their  hands 
crushed  his  body,  like  the  wind  and  rain  beating  and  bruising 
the  twig  of  a tree,  and  their  weight  was  pushing  him  downward. 
They  swayed  from  side  to  side  like  waves  of  an  angry  sea,  they 
pulled  him  across  the  pit,  his  legs  dangled  over  the  abyss  and 
his  feet  felt  the  cold  water’s  soft  touch.  The  rush  of  the  water 
sounded  in  deafening  roar  and  seemed  to  grow  louder  and 
louder. 

His  heart  sickened  as  he  gazed  deep  down  into  the  murky 
abyss  below,  but  with  a renewed  effort  of  superhuman  strength, 
he  gave  one  mighty  spring  backward,  which  threw  the  men  off 
from  him,  and  at'  the  same  minute  he  frantically  snatched  the 
letter  from  his  bosom.  No  time  to  loose,  he  tore  it  madly,  and 
threw  it  into  the  hole,  watching  it  carried  forever  away  from  the 
sight  of  man.  He  had  triumphed  — his  secret  was  safe. 

Antonius  howled  with  rage,  and  cursed  and  swore,  as  he 
shouted : u Throw  the  dog  into  the  pit ! he  shall  baffle  me  no 
more ! ” * 

The  guards  once  more  seized  him,  and  to  make  sure,  one 


16 


grabbed  him  by  the  throat.  He  felt  a hand  around  him,  the 
fingers  pressed  tighter  over  his  throat,  they  stiffled  him,  he 
could  not  breathe;  another  squeeze  and  he  would  be  dead, 
when  a sonorous  voice  sounded  like  thunder  through  the  prison 
silence.  “ Stop,  I command  thee,  Decimus  Antonius  ! Belease 
the  prisoner ! ” rang  clearly  through  the  place.  The  hands 
loosened  on  his  throat,  and  he  fell  limp  and  well-nigh  lifeless,  a 
part  of  his  body  hanging  over  the  pit,  and  his  head  on  the  cold 
floor. 

Marcus  Vitellus  strode  angrily  up  to  Antonius.  “ Coward  ! ” 
he  cried,  “ Insolent  wretch  ! ” he  shouted,  “ By  the  gods,  thou 
shalt  answer  for  this  and  my  daughter’s  insult  before  Hero  and 
the  whole  court  of  Borne.  “ Thou,  my  quondam  friend,  hypo- 
crite and  seducer,  I would  smite  thee,  now,  but  I fight  like  men, 
and  not  dogs  ! ” angrily  hissed  Marcus  to  Antonius,  who  quailed 
pale  and  trembling  at  his  threats. 

“ Come,  come,  Marcus,  why  this  fit  of  rage  ? If  I have  of- 
fended thee,  I — ” cringingly  spoke  Antonius. 

u Ho.  Hot  a word,  thou  foul-mouthed  smiling  leper,”  an- 
swered Marcus. 

Antonius  now  was  angry,  and  replied  with  an  oath.  u By 
Jove,  I swear  Marcus,  I shall  go  hence  straight  to  Hero,  and 
tell  him  thou  hast  defied  his  authority.” 

“ Go,  quick  to  thy  master,  and  tell  him  I fear  neither  thee 
nor  him,”  answered  Marcus  defiantly. 

“We  will  see,”  said  Antonius,  as  with  a smile  of  hate,  he 
drew  his  cloak  around  him,  and  with  the  guards  left  the  prison. 

Marcus  carried  Vincinnius  in  his  own  arms  out  of  the 
prison,  and  had  him  brought  to  his  very  home.  Thus  was 
Vincinnius  led  out  of  darkness  and  death  into  light  and  life. 


17 


CHAPTER  IV. 

IN  C/ESAR’S  GARDEN. 

It  was  noon,  Caesar  was  walking  in  his  garden,  reading  a 
poem  of  his  own  composition,  and  as  he  turns,  a slave  prostrates 
himself  before  him  and  addresses  him:  “O  most  gracious 
Caesar,”  he  begins,  when  the  emperor,  with  a scowl  on  his 
pudgy  face  cries  out:  “Wretch,  how  durst  thou  interrupt  me 
when  I am  reading  ? I have  lost  the  words  for  the  next  stanza.” 
And  thus  speaking  he  stamps  his  foot  furiously  on  the  ground. 

The  slave  trembles  before' his  master,  but  Caesar  still  angry, 
says:  “Well,  fool,  continue.” 

“ The  noble  Antonius,  the  friend  of  the  most  august  Caesar, 
would  hold  speech  with  him,”  the  slave  humbly  said. 

“Aha!  The  gods  be  praised.  He  will  relieve  my  gloom. 
Make  haste  and  bid  the  noble  Antonius  enter.”  Thus  spoke 
Caesar,  impatiently  kicking  the  slave  before  him,  who  again 
bows  low,  almost  bending  his  body  in  two  and  withdraws, 
backing  slowly  out  of  his  presence  whilst  Caesar  resumes  his 
reading. 

Antonius  enters  the  garden,  where  luxurious  plants  are 
scattered  around,  where  rare  flowers  spread  their  bloom  in 
prolific  splendor,  covering  the  ground  with  leaves  and  petals  of 
varied  hue  that  form  a rich  carpet,  and  stately,  well  trained  trees 
make  a shady  grove,  interspersed  with  sparkling  fountains,  and 
marble  statues  of  gods  and  goddesses. 

Caesar,  hearing  footsteps,  turns  with  a smile  to  greet  him. 
“Never  was  the  brave  Antonius  more  welcome,”  says  Caesar. 
“ Thou  hast  come  in  time  to  supply  me  with  lines  for  my  next 
verse.” 

“Ave!  Most  noble  Caesar,”  replies  Antonius.  “I  would 
have  speech  with  thee  of  great  import  to  thyself.  Are  we 
alone  ? ” inquired  Antonius. 


18 


u Alone,  with  only  the  birds  and  flowers  for  company/7  re- 
plied Caesar. 

“ 7Tis  well.  For  I have  much  fear  that  a friend  would  prove 
false  to  thy  sacred  majesty,77  cunningly  said  Antonius. 

“ What  ? 77  angrily  cries  Caesar.  u Is  this  the  news  thou 
dost  bring  me  from  without  ? 77 

u I would  t7were  not  so,77  sadly  replies  Antonius,  scanning 
Caesar’s  countenance  as  though  he  would  read  an  answer  there. 

u Ye  gods ! 77  answers  Caesar.  u Have  a care,  Antonius, 
how  thou  speakest,  for  ill-humor  dost  sit  upon  my  brow.77 

Antonius  winced,  for  he  knew  Caesar’s  temper  well,  and  he 
was  a man  of  many  whims,  and  but  recently  Antonius  had 
incurred  Caesar’s  displeasure  by  some  trivial  offense.  He  had 
sounded  him,  and  would  now  be  on  his  guard,  carefully  measur- 
ing the  ground  as  he  went  along. 

“Know  then,  most  mighty  Caesar,77  continued  Antonius 
pompously,  though  he  was  galled  by  Caesar’s  reproach,  u one  of 
thy  most  trusted  and  bravest  generals  in  Rome  has  spurned  thy 
commands.” 

Caesar  grew  livid  with  rage.  u His  name ! quick,  tell  me  ! 
Almighty  Jove ! I swear  he  will  answer  to  me  for  this ! 77  crossly 
whined  Caesar. 

“I  would  not  betray  a friend,”  hypocritically  answered 
Antonius  in  pretended  scorn  that  he  was  not  playing  the  part 
of  a traitor. 

u Thou  must  tell  me ! 77  commanded  Caesar.  u I command 
thee,  speak ! 77 

Antonius  was  silent,  and  gazed  at  Caesar  blandly,  half 
smiling  at  his  impetuousness  and  anxiety. 

“Wouldst  thou  too  defy  me,  Antonius!”  Caesar  angrily 
cried.  “ Tell  me  all,  I say,  or  thy  life  will  be  in  danger  ! 77  the 
emperor  threatened. 

Antonins  trembled  before  Caesar’s  threats,  and  dared  not 
incur  his  wrath  again.  He  had  won  his  point,  and  had  gained 
Caesar’s  sympathy. 

Antonius,  in  slow,  measured  words  thus  spoke : u I came  to 


19 


warn  thee,  great  Caesar,  but  since  thou  commandesfc  me  to 
speak,  I will.  Yesterday,  after  the  parade  in  honor  of  Venus 
had  passed  on  the  street,  I addressed  Lydia,  the  daughter  of 
Marcus  Vitellus,  of  whose  bravery  and  friendship  thou  hast  had 
much  proof.  As  I spoke,  a youth  of  that  hated  and  mangy 
Christian  sect,  who  impudently  held  converse  with  this  girl 
publicly,  attacked  me,  throwing  me  so  violently  forward  that  I 
slipped  and  fell  to  the  ground.  I had  him  bound  and  sent  to 
the  dungeon,  and  learning  that  he  had  letters  of  importance  to 
others  of  his  tribe  outside  of  Rome,  he  was  searched  by  the 
guards  at  my  command.  He  resisted  violently  and  threw  the 
letter  before  our  very  eyes  into  the  pit,  which  I had  opened  to 
frighten  him.  I was  about  to  have  his  accursed  body  thrown 
into  the  hole,  when  Marcus  Vitellus,  wild  with  rage,  rushes  to 
the  prison,  where,  insulting  me,  defiest  thy  power  and  carries 
the  boy  home  with  him.” 

u Ye  gods  ! This  is  marvelous.  The  impudent  boy ! but  by 
Jove,  he  was  brave ; and  he  thwarted  thee,  and  did  throw  thee 
on  the  public  street,  eh  Antonius  ? ” Caesar’s  sides  shook  with 
laughter,  whilst  Antonius  boiled  with  shame  and  anger  to  be 
made  sport  of  by  Caesar.  Antonius  carefully  controlled  his 
temper  and  continued : u But  ’tis  not  all,  most  gracious  Caesar  5 
it  is  not  for  my  injuries  that  I seek  revenge,  it  is  for  thy  welfare 
I speak.” 

u How  now,  Antonius,  ’tis  not  all  thou  dost  bore  me  f what 
more  stuff  hast  thou  to  weary  me  with  ? ” Caesar  pettishly 
asked. 

“ Listen,  Caesar,”  Antonius  whispered ; “ ’tis  rumored  that 
Marcus’  daughter  doth  visit  the  Christians  in  the  catacombs ; 
their  strength  is  growing  daily,  they  wax  insolent,  they  conspire 
against  thy  life,  and  — 

“ Hold  ! ” shreiked  Caesar  in  a fury.  u Enough  ! I hate 
these  Christians,  Antonius,  thou  knowest  well,  but,”  hotly  cried 
Caesar,  “thou  hast  gone  too  far.  I believe  not  thy  story  of 
Marcus,  thou  liest,  I say.  Marcus  is  the  bravest  general  in  all 
Rome,  and  has  he  not  promised  thee  Lydia’s  hand  in  marriage  ! 
said  Caesar. 


20 


“ He  has,  most  noble  Caesar,”  answered  Antonius.  “ But  he 
would  have  some  excuse  to  break  his  word  with  me;  and  then,  he 
harbors  this  Christian  boy  in  his  very  home,  as  one  of  his  own.” 

Antonius  knew  well  how  to  rouse  Caesar’s  passions,  and  he 
had  succeeded. 

“This  is  monstruous,  and  in  defiance  of  my  orders,  to  be- 
friend this  Christian  thus ! ” Caesar  said,  as  his  face  grew  hard 
and  stern. 

“ There  is  danger,  Caesar ; look  to  it,  I warn  thee.  If  thou 
dost  not  act  in  time,  and  make  an  example  of  Marcus,  thou  wilt 
be  undone.  Think  of  it ! Marcus,  one  so  near  thy  throne,  he, 
so  trusted,  to  play  thee  false  ! ” Antonius  turned  to  go. 

“Stay,  most  worthy  Antonius!  ” commanded  Caesar.  “Thou 
most  loyal  friend,  what  wouldst  thou  have  me  do  f ” 

“ To-morrow  have  a public  trial,”  answered  Antonius  in  a 
husky  voice.  “ Summon  Marcus,  his  daughter  and  the  Chris- 
tian before  thee.  Offer  freedom  to  the  boy  if  he  abjures  his 
faith  and  offers  incense  to  the  gods.  Reward  him,  bribe  him  • 
watch  the  effect  on  Marcus,  watch  still  more,”  he  whispers  to 
Caesar,  “ watch,  I tell  thee,  Lydia.  I tell  thee,  Caesar,  she  loves 
the  Christian  boy.  I suspect  strongly  she  has  already  embraced 
his  faith,  and  as  for  Marcus  — ” 

“ Ah,  I see  thou  lovest  the  girl,  thou  wouldst  have  her,  eh  ? 
And  so  thou  shalt ! ” promised  Caesar. 

“ Beware  of  the  Christians,  most  noble  Caesar ! ” again 
warned  Antonius. 

“ Enough  ! ” cried  out  Caesar  foaming  at  the  mouth  in  rage, 
for  his  passions  were  now  roused  to  their  pitch.  “ Order  the 
Christians  to  be  hounded  down  in  the  catacombs  where  they 
meet  to-night,  and  slaughter  them  all ! ” 

“Thy  word  is  law,  most  mighty  Caesar,”  answered  Anto- 
nius, as  reverently  on  bended  knee  he  kissed  the  hem  of  Caesar’s 
garment. 

“ Rise,  Antonius,”  Caesar  said ; “ do  my  bidding,  and  thou 
shalt  be  rewarded.” 

Antonius  went  forth  on  his  deadly  work,  while  Caesar  an- 
grily paced  up  and  down  his  garden. 


21 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  WARNING. 

It  is  evening.  The  streets  of  Eome  are  crowded  with 
the  usual  throng  of  pleasure-seekers,  and  none  noticed  Lydia  as 
she  hurries,  thickly  veiled  and  cloaked,  on  her  way.  The  crim- 
son hues  of  sunset  incarnadine  the  sky  as  if  with  blood,  and 
shed  a pink  glow  over  the  city,  that  deepens  from  rose  color  to 
carmine,  and  fades  from  red  to  salmon,  which  lingers  like  a 
gentle  touch  over  everything,  before  the  purple  shadows  gather 
from  the  mountains  in  the  distance  and  encircle  Rome  in  the 
dark  mantle  of  night,  Lydia  is  hastening  to  the  catacombs  to 
tell  the  Father  there  what  has  happened  to  Yincinnius.  She 
hurries  along  through  the  crowds,  recognizing  many  but  none 
guessing  her  identity,  or  caring  to  fathom  her  intentions. 

Lydia  turns  into  a narrow  street,  where  all  is  secluded  and 
silent,  when  to  her  horror,  she  perceives  Antonius  busily  con- 
versing with  a group  of  his  followers,  all  soldiers  like  himself, 
evidently  receiving  orders  from  their  leader.  She  pauses,  her 
courage  fails  her  for  a minute,  but  she  must  pass  him,  so  she 
quickly  walks  on  almost  in  a run,  when  her  feet  almost  give 
way  beneath  her,  as  these  words  float  to  ear  as  she  passes: 
“ Yes,  to-night,”  one  of  the  soldiers  says,  u at  the  appointed 
hour  we  will  wait  near  the  catacombs,  and  as  they  emerge,  we 
will  slay  them  all.”  She  turns  involuntarily  to  look  at  the 
speaker,  and  with  horror  she  beholds  Antonius  paying  money 
to  his  hirelings,  bribing  the  blood-thirsty  wretches  to  do  their 
dirty  work.  Antonius  sees  her,  does  he  recognize  her?  Impos- 
sible. How  could  he  know  her  in  her  disguise?  He  follows  her 
at  a distance,  as  she  prays  for  strength  and  quickens  her  pace. 
She  feels  him  gaining  on  her,  and  hears  his  footsteps  echoing 
on  the  paved  street.  She  turns  again,  he  is  a few  steps  from 
her.  What  shall  she  do  ? The  shadows  are  growing  darker,  and 
this  gives  her  some  hope,  as  she  runs  forward  into  another 


22 


street,  where  by  chance  she  sees  an  open  doorway,  through 
which  she  quickly  rushes  and  sinks  exhausted  behind  a marble 
pillar,  which  completely  hides  her  within  its  shadow.  She  is 
safe  now,  but  there  is  no  time  to  loose ; she  waits  a while,  and 
then  emerging  from  her  hiding  place,  gazes  up  and  down  the 
stilly  street,  more  frightened  than  before.  She  summons  her 
courage  once  more  and  goes  bravely  forward  unmolested  and 
unwatched,  she  thinks,  to  the  catacombs.  Once  within  the 
walls  of  the  catacombs  she  breathes  freer,  and  amid  much 
weeping  she  tells  the  Christians  what  has  happened  to  Yincin- 
nius  and  what  she  heard  on  her  way. 

“ Fear  nothing,  daughter,”  the  patriarch  said.  “ One  of  us 
will  see  you  home.” 

“No,  no.  It  would  be  folly,”  Lydia  pleads,  “ a slave  awaits 
me  without.” 

“ And  Yincinnius,  when  does  he  returns  ? Thank  your 
father  for  us,  he  is  a good  man,  would  that  he  would  receive 
the  light  of  faith  and  come  within  the  fold  of  the  true  shep- 
herd,” spoke  the  old  man. 

u He  will  some  day,”  hopefully  replied  Lydia ; u see  how 
brave  Yincinnius  is  and  he  is  so  young.  My  father  is  so  brave, 
I am  sure  he  would  not  fear  to  die  a martyr.  If  Caesar  knew  I 
was  a Christian  my  father’s  head  might  pay  the  penalty.” 

“ Thou  art  a brave  girl,  Lydia,  God  will  reward  thee,”  softly 
said  the  old  man  as  he  took  her  little  hand  in  his,  and  raising 
it  to  his  withered  lips,  imprinted  a kiss  on  the  dimpled  palm. 

Lydia  left  the  catacombs,  satisfied  that  her  duty  had  been 
done.  A slave  joined  her.  A shadow  fell  athwart  her  path, 
and  Antoni  us  was  at  her  side. 

Lydia  gave  a little  cry  of  alarm.  “ Thou  little  fool,”  An- 
tonius  whispers ; “ so  thou  wouldst  thwart  me,  eh  ? Come,  I 
forgive  thee,  and  will  see  thee  safely  home.” 

“ Begone,  monster  ! ” Lydia  cried.  u I will  call  for  help  if 
thou  wilt  not  leave  me.” 

Antonius  muttered  something  she  could  not  hear,  and  slunk 
away  in  the  shadows  as  she  and  her  slave  hastened  on  their  way. 


23 


All  was  silent  and  Lydia  could  have  hardly  reached  home, 
when  the  Christians  left  the  catacombs.  As  they  emerged  into 
the  streets,  Antonius  and  his  followers  cowardly  besieged  them 
on  all  sides.  The  old  man  was  the  first  to  die  from  a stroke 
of  Antonius’  sword,  and  he  fell  praising  God,  and  urging 
his  followers  to  have  courage  and  hope  in  Christ.  One  by  one 
they  were  butchered,  poor,  defenceless  things,  reddening  the 
streets  with  their  blood,  whilst  crowds  rushed  out  of  their 
houses,  attracted  by  the  cries  and  groans  of  the  dead  and  dying. 
Not  one  offered  assistance,  not  one  to  bind  a wound,  or  speak  a 
word  of  comfort  to  the  expiring  sufferers  left  to  die  like  dogs? 
whilst  Eomans  looked  on  and  applauded,  watching  the  inhuman 
butchery  — the  death  of  martyrs  was  but  a circus  to  them. 

Thus  Lydia  had  striven  to  save  her  friends  and  had  failed, 
but  Antonius  himself  secretly  admired  the  courage  of  this 
young  girl,  and  his  conscience  reproached  him  for  his  treachery. 

Night  grew  apace  and  deepened,  whilst  Nero’s  orgies  reached 
their  height  of  infamous  debaucheries.  Within  Caesar’s  palace, 
Nero  and  his  friends  gorged  themselves  with  food,  and  crazed 
with  wine,  they  fell  mad  or  numbed  upon  their  mistresses’  bosom, 
or  lay  like  senseless  beasts  on  the  marble  floor,  reddened  not 
with  martyrs’  blood,  but  with  intoxicating  wine  bought  to  drown 
their  crimes  in  forgetfulness. 

Without  the  palace  gates,  the  sleeping  martyrs  on  the 
streets  of  Borne  cried  out  aloud  for  vengeance  on  their  murder. 
Through  the  dark  clouds  of  night  angels  descended  casting 
circles  of  shining  light  around  them,  as  they  bore  upwards  the 
souls  of  Christ’s  beloved,  and  passing  through  starry  realms, 
they  crowned  the  martyrs’  brows  with  crowns  of  roses  whose 
perfume  was  scattered  in  dew  drops  to  comfort  their  brethren 
left  on  earth,  but  to  sicken  and  reproach  the  Eomans  with 
thoughts  of  their  cruelty. 


24 


CHAPTER  VI. 

IN  THE  HOME  OF  MARCUS -TEMPTATION. 

Marcus  paces  up  and  down  his  room,  lighted  by  a single 
lamp,  with  anger  and  anxiety  both  plainly  written  on  his  face, 
where  deep  furrows  are  drawn  as  though  a plough  had  up  rooted 
his  smooth  but  ruddy  skin.  In  his  hand  he  holds  an  order  from 
Hero,  commanding  him  to  appear  on  trial  on  the  morrow,  to 
answer  the  charges  brought  against  him  by  Antonius.  The 
document  sets  forth  the  causes  and  reasons  for  the  trial,  naming 
his  offenses,  and  also  charges  him  to  bring  his  daughter  with 
him,  and  to  give  up  the  Christian  boy  before  the  court  of  Rome. 

Marcus  summons  a slave  and  commands  Vincinnius  to  come 
to  his  room.  In  a short  while  Vincinnius  is  before  Marcus, 
wondering  what  is  now  in  store  for  him. 

“Poor  boy!”  Marcus  exclaims  as  Vincinnius  enters  the 
room  ; “ thou  art  the  innocent  cause  of  much  trouble.  Sit  thee 
Vincinnius,  at  my  feet,  and  listen,”  he  says,  as  he  opens  the 
scroll  and  reads  its  contents. 

Vincinnius  listens  as  the  color  dies  from  his  face,  and  his 
heart  is  troubled  with  reproach  to  find  that  he  has -brought 
trouble  and  dishonor  on  his  benefactor,  and  to  know  that  he 
has  caused  Lydia  sorrow  and  pain. 

Marcus  has  finished  reading.  Vincinnius  rises  and  tells 
him  in  a choking  voice:  “Kind  friend,  benefactor  and  noble 
Roman,  it  grieves  me  deeply  to  see  to  what  sorrow  I have  un- 
consciously brought  thee,  and  to  hear  that  I should  have  put 
thy  life  in  peril,  and  also  that  Lydia  should  — ” 

As  the  words  died  from  his  trembling  lips,  Marcus  sud- 
denly strained  him  to  his  bosom  in  a passionate  embrace,  whilst 
he  presses  a kiss  on  his  pallied  brow. 

“Boy,”  Marcus  feelingly  said,  “Thy  father  was  my  best 
friend.  A brave  Roman  general  was  he,  like  myself,  and  many 
a time  we  fought  together  on  the  same  field,  braving  the  same 


25 


dangers,  sharing  the  same  fate.  But  an  evil  day  came  upon  him. 
He  and  his  family  became  Christians,  and  Nero  in  his  madness, 
cruelly  slew  him,  his  wife,  and  children,  all,  save  thee,  shed  their 
blood  in  behalf  of  their  faith.  Thou  wast  a tender  babe  then. 
Ah ! how  I remember  well  the  day ! I returned  from  battle  to 
hear  that  thy  father  was  killed  by  Nero’s  orders,  and  that  all 
of  his  family  were  condemned  to  die.  Raging  and  terror- 
stricken,  I hastened  to  Nero’s  palace,  and  there,  on  bended 
knee,  did  I sue  for  thy  life  to  be  spared.  Nero  was  obsti- 
nate. I begged,  and  pleaded,  until  he  finally  yielded  to  let  thee 
live.  I promised  to  rear  thee  as  my  own,  but  Nero  refused  me 
that  boon,  and  ordered  thee  out  of  Rome.  I hid  thee  in  my  very 
palace  until  I placed  thee  in  the  care  of  a good  Christian  family, 
and  it  was  but  yesterday  I found  thee,  who  was  lost  to  me  these 
many  years.  This  is  why  I saved  thee  from  the  tyranny  and 
cruelty  of  Antonius — because  I love  thee.”  Thus  speaking, 
the  Roman’s  frame  shook  with  sobs,  and  Marcus  wept  like  a 
child.  Vincinnius  too,  sobbed  aloud  as  he  replied: 

u Most  noble  Roman,  how  can  I thank  thee  for  thy  kindness 
and  charity  ? the  true  God,  the  God  I adore  will  reward  thee, 
and  bless  thee  for  thy  magnanimous  actions.”  Vincinnius  took 
the  broad,  brawny  hand  of  Marcus  and  kissed  it  reverently; 
that  hand  that  had  wielded  the  battle  ax  so  often  to  hew  down 
the  enemy,  but  which  had  never  been  raised  against  a friend,  or 
let  fall  against  another  in  anger. 

Marcus  looked  into  Vincinnius’  eyes  as  though  he  would 
strive  to  move  his  soul  to  some  great  sacrifice.  u Vincinnius,” 
he  said : u there  is  one  chance  to  save  us,  I care  not  for  my  life, 
it  is  Lydia  for  whom  I plead,  yes,  my  little  girl,  my  motherless 
child,  my  only  lamb ! she,  who  should  have  been  thy  sister ! 
Ye  Gods  ! she  for  whom  I would  sacrifice  every  drop  of  blood 
that  flows  in  my  body.”  Marcus  could  not  repress  a sob,  and 
continued:  u Yes,  Vincinnius,  I ask  thee  to  spare  my  child,  I,  a 
proud  Roman  general,  bend  my  head  to  thee  for  mercy,  to  thee, 
a boy ! ” and  his  gray  head  bent  supplicatingly  before  the  youth 
trembling  before  him, 


26 


u Nero,  in  his  hate,”  Marcus  continued,  u might  behead  me 
for  harboring  thee,  a Christian,  whose  life  is  accursed  in  the 
eyes  of  Kome ; and  then  my  Lydia  will  be  alone  to  fight  the 
world.  Nero  will  call  on  thee  to  abjure  thy  faith  to-morrow, 
at  the  trial ; do  so  now,  make  the  sacrifice,  it  is  yet  time,  do  it 
for  Lydia’s  sake,  not  for  me.  Listen,  I will  adopt  thee  as  my 
son  ; riches,  glory  and  honor  will  be  thine.  Nay,  more  ! Lydia 
shall  be  thy  wife  ! I had  promised  her  to  another.”  And  as  he 
spoke,  a dangerons  fire  of  hate  and  contempt  flashed  from  his 
eye.  u But  now,  I swear  to  thee,  she  is  thine,  for  my  old  heart 
knows  and  feels  full  well  that  she  loves  thee,  and  thou,  thou — ” 
u Yes,”  Vincinnius  answered,  blushing,  “ I love  her,  e’en 
though  I cannot  fix  my  thoughts  on  earthly  affections,  our  souls 
have  flown  to  one  another  like  two  doves  in  a nest,  and  if  we  can- 
not be  united  here  below,  our  love  will  be  glorified  in  Paradise.” 

Marcus  gazed  in  admiration  and  love  at  the  boy  before 
him,  as  he  pressed  his  hand  warmly  and  said : u Think  of  what 
I have  offered  thee,  my  boy,  thy  answer  ? ” 

Vincinnius  shrunk  from  his  gaze  as  if  it  hurt  him,  for  of  a 
sudden  he  remembered  that  he  was  a Christian,  and  what  must 
be  his  answer.  He  trembled  as  the  temptation  poured  into  his 
lap  as  it  were  the  most  luscious  fruits  the  world  could  give. 
Beautiful  dream- vision  of  happiness  rose  before  him,  there  was 
his  chance;  one  word  and  all  was  his:  love,  ambition,  honor, 
pleasure,  all  where  there  to  lure  him  on ! to  what  ? Then  the 
debt  that  he  owed  this  man,  had  he  not  saved  his  life  ? could 
he  be  so  ungrateful  to  him  as  to  refuse  what  he  offered,  after 
all  that  he  had  done  for  him  * Conflicting  emotions  wrangled 
within  him,  the  tempter  whispered  into  his  ear  all  that  was 
promised  him.  Lydia  rose  up  to  his  view  ; he  saw  her  pleading 
for  her  father’s  life ; he  beheld  her  sweet  face,  her  eyes  veiled 
in  tears,  her  lips  half  apart  like  an  opening  rosebud,  her  little 
hand  outstretched  to  him  beseechingly.  u Oh  God ! ” he  cried 
out  in  agony,  u give  me  strength  ! ” 

u Think  again,”  Marcus  said,  “ I will  give  thee  ’till  to-mor- 
row’s dawn  to  decide.” 


27 


Vincinnius  had  conquered  himself,  and  his  prayer  was 
heard,  for  it  seemed  to  him  he  had  the  strength  suddenly  of  a 
lion,  as  though  he  were  prepared  to  meet  death  on  the  arena. 
He  gathered  himself  proudly  together  and  with  folded  arms,  he 
replied  in  a clear  voice  : “ No.  I have  decided  now.” 

u Thou  wilt  accept  my  offer  ? ” Marcus  eagerly  questioned. 
u Never ! ” Vincinnius  answered.  u I can  not,  will  not 
renounce  my  faith,  even  to  save  thy  life,  nor  for  Lydia  whom  I 
so  dearly  love.”  He  saw  the  pain  that  rose  like  whipcords  on 
the  face  of  Marcus,  as  the  man  drew  back  aghast  at  his  refusal, 
and  hurt  to  the  quick  as  though  stung  by  a blow. 

u Forgive  me,  Marcus,”  Vincinnius  cried  out,  “ O,  worthy 
man,  that  I should  cause  thee  so  much  pain ! but  thou  cans’t 
not  understand  that  Christ,  my  Master,  must  be  obeyed  before 
thee.  I too,  suffer,  but  it  is  for  God  I bear  it  all.  I am  young 
to  die,  life  is  sweet,  but  I go  bravely  forth  to  meet  death.  Nero 
can  butcher  my  body,  but  he  can  not  kill  my  soul.  I love 
Lydia,  thy  daughter,  I could  make  her  happy,  but  my  duty  lies 
beyond  this  earth,  in  Heaven  I will  await  thee  and  her,  my 
loved  one,  where  angels  watch  to  crown  the  faithful  soldier  of 
Christ  with  everlasting  peace.” 

Marcus,  who  had  never  feared  living  man,  not  even  Nero, 
trembled  in  the  chair  where  he  sat,  overcome  by  Vincinnius’ 
words,  and  at  the  same  time  ashamed  that  he  had  tempted  one 
so  brave.  He  rose  slowly  and  took  the  boy’s  hand  in  his  and 
silently  pressed  it  to  his  lips.  u I am  not  worthy  to  have  thee,” 
he  sorrowfully  said.  u Vincinnius,  the  gods  preserve  thee,  thou 
art  braver  than  I to  refuse  all  I have  offered  thee,  to  follow  thy 
Christ  and  do  His  will.  I admire  thy  courage;  go  and  prepare 
thyself  for  to  morrow’s  trial,  when  Lydia  and  myself  with  thee 
will  face  Nero  and  his  court.”  Vincinnius  walked  out  of  the 
room  like  one  in  a dream  and  was  glad  to  breathe  the  free  air 
again,  to  be  outside,  alone,  where  he  could  gather  his  senses 
and  rehearse  the  scene  over,  wherein  he  had  just  played  a lead- 
ing part. 

Marcus  did  not  sleep  that  night,  but  walked  up  and  down, 


28 


restless  and  agitated,  not  knowing  what  the  morrow  would  bring 
forth.  He  gazed  at  the  sleeping  Tiber  in  the  distance,  through 
his  window,  where  the  waters  lay  silent  and  peaceful  in  strange 
contrast  to  the  war  that  raged  within  his  heart.  The  night  too, 
breathed  peace,  the  stars  spoke  of  restfulness,  and  the  moon  sat 
weiridly,  white  and  still  like  a sentinel  guarding  the  tomb  of 
the  sleeping  day.  All  nature  spoke  of  rest,  as  he  asked  him- 
self what  life  had  brought  him,  he  had  served  Nero  well  and 
faithfully,  and  now  because  he  saved  an  innocent  boy  from  the 
cruelty  and  cowardly  assaults  of  a false  friend,  all  his  favors, 
his  loyalty,  his  bravery  were  forgotten,  and  he  was  called  to 
answer  before  the  whole  of  Eome,  base  charges,  brought  by  a 
hypocrite  through  revenge.  Yincinnius  was  far  happier  than 
he  in  his  simple  childish  faith,  ready  to  suffer  without  a mur- 
mur, anything  for  a higher  Master  — one  not  of  this  world. 
Dawn  found  Marcus  weary  and  exhausted,  asleep  in  his  chair 
before  the  open  window. 

Yincinnius  paused  in  his  walk  through  Marcus’  palace,  as 
he  entered  an  olive  grove,  wondering  where  his  brethren  were, 
and  wishing  he  could  be  with  them,  now,  for  he  felt  very  happy 
knowing  that  he  had  done  his  duty  and  was  faithful  to  God. 

The  night  was  young,  the  moon,  like  a silver  boat,  floated 
on  high,  and  touched  every  leaf  and  shrub  with  her  white  fin- 
gers, that  softened  the  outlines  of  the  garden  and  spiritualized 
the  scene  into  a fairy  brightness,  like  the  whiteness  of  Heaven 
adorned  in  the  reflected  glory  of  the  Divine  Majesty. 

In  the  background,  tall  and  dark  against  the  sky,  Nero’s 
palace  loomed  up  on  the  hills  like  an  angry  spectre,  foreboding 
evil,  watching  like  a bird  of  prey  hidden  in  the  dark,  ready  to 
pounce  on  an  unsuspecting  victim.  A shadow  startled  Yincin- 
nius, when  lo  ! in  the  shining  light  Lydia  appeared  to  him,  like 
some  saint  clothed  in  glory.  Never  has  he  seen  aught  so  beau- 
tiful as  she  stood  there  before  him  clad  in  white,  with  the  moon 
shining  on  her  neck  and  face,  her  slight  figure  curved  in  grace- 
ful lines  and  her  eyes  beaming  with  an  ethereal  light.  She 
stood  there  as  if  carved  of  marble,  or  like  a picture  flashed 


29 

across  the  vision,  springing  out  of  the  darkness.  He  felt  like 
running  to  her  and  clasping  her  to  his  heart,  but  he  restrained 
himself,  and  she  motioned  him  to  silence  with  her  finger  on  her 
lips.  She  glides  towards  him.  “ Come,”  she  whispered,  “ let 
us  sit  here,  I have  so  much  to  tell  thee.”  They  sat  down  to- 
gether on  a stone  bench,  half  hidden  ’twixt  light  and  shadow, 
whispering  low  together  in  the  dreamy  silence  of  the  night. 
She  told  him  of  the  plot  to  murder  the  Christians,  how  she  had 
warned  his  friends,  and  how  Antonius  and  his  followers  had 
slain  them  all.  Yincinnius  wept  as  he  heard  that  all  his  friends 
were  dead,  and  she  soothed  him  as  only  a woman  can,  even 
though  she  is  a child. 

u What  did  they  do  to  thee  in  that  awful  prison  ? ” Lydia 
asked. 

Then  Yincinnius  related  his  story  and  all  that  had  hap- 
pened to  him  since  they  had  last  met.  “ And  you  gave  up  all 
for  Christ  I ” she  said  when  he  had  finished. 

u All,  even  thee,  my  sweet  Lydia  ! ” he  answered. 
u And  thou  dost  not  love  me  any  more  ? ” she  reproach- 
fully asked. 

u Thou  knowest  that  true  love  is  eternal,  Lydia,”  he  softly 
answered.  u Thou  too,  art  a Christian,  though  I should  die,  we 
will  meet  beyond  the  skies,  where  no  man  can  apart  us.  And 
wilt  thou  not  be  true  to  me  ? ” he  said. 

u How  cansT  thou  ask,  Yincinnius  ? have  I not  sought 
danger  for  thee  and  thine  ? But  I am  only  a tiny  girl,  I am  so 
weak  and  foolish,  and  sometimes  I fear  — ” 

u There  is  nothing  to  fear,  Lydia,  if  thou  belie  vest  in  Christ. 
He  will  strengthen  thee,  thou  must  be  brave.” 

u Oh  ! to-morrow ! If  Nero  knows  I am  a Christian,  my 
poor,  dear  father  will  be  killed  ! ” and  the  girl  wept  as  though 
her  heart  would  break. 

Yincinnius  bent  over  her  and  consoled  her  as  best  he  may. 
u There,  Lydia,  no  tears,  now,  thy  father  is  a brave  and  noble 
man ; he  fears  not  death.  Hast  thou  not  promised  to  suffer  for 
Christ  ? ” 


30 


“ Yes,  yes,  but  if  he  should  die  — ” 

“ Thou  wilt  be  happy  with  him,  thou  wilt  wait  and  soon 
thou  too  wilt  follow  him  and  die  for  Christ,  for  I think  thy 
father  will  embrace  our  faith,  and  even  if  he  dies  a pagan,  God 
will  be  just  to  him,  for  he  is  a good  man” 

“ I will  tell  him  to-night  that  I am  a Christian,”  Lydia  said. 

“ Ah  ! thou  art  braver  than  I thought,”  replied  Vinciimius. 
“ ’Tis  well,  kneel  with  me  and  we  will  pray  here  together  for 
strength  and  courage  for  to-morrow’s  trial,  and  that  thy  father 
may  find  the  true  God  before  he  dies.” 

Alone  with  God  and  the  stars,  these  two  children  clasped 
hands  and  knelt  on  the  soft,  green  earth  side  by  side,  lifting  up 
their  young  hearts  together  in  the  silent  grove,  with  the  moon 
looking  down  upon  them  like  Heaven’s  benediction;  and  the 
passing  wind,  as  it  kissed  their  brows,  caught  their  innocent 
words  and  wafted  them  before  the  throne  on  High,  where  they 
fell  like  dewy  roses  at  the  feet  o£  Christ. 

Vincinnius  led  Lydia  back  to  the  house,  and  her  last  words 
were:  “To-night,  my  father  shall  know  that  I am  a child  of 
Christ.” 

Vincinnius  gazed  after  her  retreating  form,  and  then  re- 
turned to  the  grove  to  watch  and  pray. 


31 


CAHPTER  VII. 

THE  TRIAL. 

All  Rome  was  agog  with  excitement,  groups  of  people 
congregated  on  the  streets  as  early  as  sunrise,  eagerly  discussing 
and  commenting  on  the  trial  of  Marcus  Vitellus  which  was  to  take 
place  that  day.  This  had  furnished  Rome  with  a sensation  and 
awakened  her  from  her  lethargy.  One  man  in  a group  said : 
“ Marcus  Vitellus  is  the  bravest  man  in  all  Rome,  he  fears  no 
one,  not  even  Caesar.” 

“ But  he  harbored  a hated  Christiam  dog,  and  his  daughter 
claims  this  boy  as  a friend  ! ” replied  another. 

“ Hush  ! ” whispered  a ragged  crone,  shaking  her  stick  at 
the  speakers,  as  she  gazed  at  them  from  her  bleared  eyes,  and 
her  elfish  dirty  locks  blew  in  the  breeze.  “ They  say  his  daughter 
is  a Christian,”  she  said,  “and  she  loves  the  boy,  ha!  ha!  ha!” 
the  witch  diabolically  laughed. 

“ Ye  Gods!  ” another  cired,  “is  Rome  to  be  ruled  by  Chris- 
tian babes,  that  they  should  turn  the  heads  of  her  Generals  1 ” 

“ Bah,  ?tis  a lie,  I believe  none  of  it,”  a soldier  said. 

“ 7 Tis  the  truth,  I swear  it,  ” a prison-guard  said,  “ Catullus 
my  cousin,  saw  it  all.  ” The  crowd  eagerly  pressed  around  him 
to  hear  the  story. 

“ Tell  us  all  about  it,  tell  us  quick,”  they  shouted. 

“Well,  well,”  be  quiet  and  I will  tell  ye  all  I know,”  he 
answered.  “ The  boy  had  a letter  from  the  Christians,  it  was 
a plot  to  murder  Nero.  Antonius  tried  to  get  the  secret  from 
him,  but  the  boy  threw  it  into  the  river.  Then  Antonius  re- 
primanded the  youth,  when  he  turned  on  him  and  attacked  him 
most  violently.  And  then  — then  — ” 

“ Well  go  on,  ” the  rabble  yelled. 

“Where  was  I?  Well  then,  ah  yes.  Marcus  rushed  into 
the  prison  hearing  cries,  and  thinking  Antonius  had  misused 
the  boy,  whose  father  he  had  known,  he  released  the  boy  and 


32 


took  him  to  his  home,  swearing  vengeance  against  Antonius, 
who  told  Cresar  about  it  and  — ” 

“We  know  the  rest,  and  will  soon  see  the  fun/’  several 
cried. 

u The  boy  should  be  put  on  the  rack  and  made  to  confess. 
He  should  be  thrown  to  the  lions,  ” a man  shouted. 

u Friends,  the  hour  grows  late,”  some  one  cried,  u let’s  to 
the  market-place  to  see  the  trial.”  The  crowd  by  one  impulse 
surged  forward  like  a huge  wave  rolling  on  to  engulf  everything 
in  its  path. 

Excitement  was  rife  at  the  market  place,  for  it  was  long 
that  Eome  had  seen  one  of  her  foremost  men  led  forward  like 
a criminal  to  be  tried  before  the  whole  populace. 

In  the  center  of  the  market  place  (a  large  open  square), 
Caesar’s  throne  rose  in  magnificent  splendor  high  above  the 
people,  perched  under  the  blue  sky  like  some  commanding  aegis. 
This  throne  was  gaily  decorated  with  rich  trappings,  and  a 
flight  of  steps  led  up  to  it,  for  his  august  majesty  to  ascend, 
while  at  the  feet  were  benches  for  the  orators,  the  senate  and 
other  distinguished  personages  to  sit.  Then  to  the  right  was 
a cricle  where  the  accused  were  to  take  their  places  under 
guard,  and  scattered  in  the  background  and  on  the  sides  of  the 
place  were  marble  statues  of  the  gods  and  idols  before  which 
the  sacred  incense  burned,  rising  in  clouds  of  smoke  like  a thick 
fog  at  sea. 

In  one  corner  was  the  rack,  that  awful  instrument  of  torture 
whose  excruciating  pangs  so  many  had  undergone,  and  a boil- 
ing tank  of  oil  stood  beside  it  — that  relic  of  barbaric  cruelty,  a 
parody  on  the  civilization  of  mighty  Kome.  The  crowds  en- 
tered and  jostled  each  other,  pushing  forward  here  and  there 
to  gain  a corner  of  vantage,  while  yelling  children  clung  to 
their  mother’s  dress,  and  even  the  women  fought  for  places,  as 
eager  as  the  men  to  witness  any  scene  of  horror  or  atrocious- 
ness, all  ready  to  feast  their  eyes  on  tortured  victims,  like  vul- 
tures gloating  over  some  wounded  prey. 

A fanfare  of  trumpets  shrilly  rending  the  air  was  heard 


33 


above  the  din  and  confusion  reigning  there,  and  of  a sudden  a 
deep  silence,  a terrible  awe  fell  over  the  panting  multitude,  like 
a calm  settling  over  a roaring  ocean  lulling  it  to  sleep.  All  eyes 
turned  to  the  front  and  loud  shouts  of  joy  greeted  Caesar  as  he 
was  lifted  from  his  litter  by  attendant  slaves,  and  he  stepped 
to  the  ground,  proudly  waving  his  hand  to  the  crowd  in  recog- 
nition of  their  huzzahs.  Caesar  then  strode  up  the  steps  ac- 
companied by  faithful  friends,  and  drawing  his  bright-colored 
toga  of  royal  purple  around  him,  he  sat  and  gazed  with  satis- 
faction upon  the  scene.  A titter  of  excitement  ran  through 
the  crowd,  and  men,  women  and  children  elbowed  their  way 
closer  and  strained  every  nerve  as  the  prisoners  entered  the 
public  square.  The  crowd  well-nigh  burst  into  a cry  of  enthu- 
siasm when  they  beheld  Marcus  Vitellus  walk  in,  leading  his 
daughter  by  one  hand,  and  Vincinnius  by  the  other.  Marcus 
had  aged  in  a single  night,  and  his  face  bore  the  deep  lines  of 
care  and  suffering ; his  head  was  slightly  bowed  in  sorrow,  but 
his  body  was  erect  and  his  attitude  defiant.  Lydia  clung  trem- 
bling to  her  father’s  arm,  her  face  pale  as  the  marble  pillars 
around  her,  a tremor  on  her  childish  lips,  whilst  her  hair  floated 
around  her,  over  her  white  gown  like  a golden  mist  tinged  with 
Heaven’s  own  light.  Vincinnius  stood  proud  and  brave  on  the 
other  side,  his  face  showing  no  trace  of  the  struggle  of  the 
night  before,  or  no  anxiety  for  the  ordeal  he  was  to  pass 
through.  His  eyes  had  a sweet,  trustful  look  in  them  that 
would  have  won  confidence  even  from  Nero,  if  he  had  dared 
pity  a Christian.  His  face  too,  was  pale,  and  but  for  a look  of 
compassion  that  would  steal  furtively  like  a shadow  over  the 
face  of  the  sun,  whenever  he  gazed  tenderly  on  Lydia,  he  bore  a 
look  of  contentment,  for  he  was  ready  to  win  a martyr’s  crown. 

Women  wept  and  strong  men  turned  away,  such  a picture 
stung  them  to  the  quick  and  rose  up  to  accuse  them  as  mur- 
derers. Some  cried  out  u ’tis  a shame ! ” one  screamed  : u Down 
with  Caesar,  the  tyrant ! ” and  still  another  shouted : “ Set 
them  free,  ” Nero  frowned  in  anger  and  moved  uneasily  in  his 


34 


seat,  for  he  had  not  expected  this,  and  a black  look  began  to 
gather  on  his  brow,  as  he  commanded  the  trial  to  proceed. 

Antonius  made  his  charge  with  a leer  of  revenge  on  his 
countenance,  but  when  he  said : “ And  please  thee,  Caesar,  on 
the  night  that  the  Christians  were  slain  by  thy  most  august 
commands,  I met  Lydia,  the  daughter  of  my  quondam  friend, 
Marcus  Yitellus,  coming  out  of  the  catacombs,  whither  she  had 
gone  to  meet  some  Christian  youth  to  save  him  from  slaughter, 
or  — V Marcus  Yitellus  sprung  forward  like  a beast  in  the  desert 
attacking  a foe.  u Silence ! ” he  interrupted  Antonius  as  he 
cried  out  in  a voice  ringing  with  fire  and  hate  that  sounded  like 
a trumpet  blast  over  the  breathless  market  place.  u Silence ! I 
say ! ” he  cried,  cutting  the  words  out  of  Antonius’  mouth  like 
a whip.  u Coward ! thou  best ! ” he  continued,  as  he  advanced 
to  the  very  foot  of  Caesar’s  throne.  u Thou  hypocrite ! ” he 
hissed  at  Antonius,  u thou  art  not  satisfied  with  thy  base  and 
false  charges  against  me,  but  thou  wouldst  insult  my  daughter 
publicly,  thou  wouldst  pollute  her  name  1 My  flesh  and  blood ! 
my  pure  lamb ! thou  wouldst  traduce  her  before  the  whole 
Eoman  people  ! I tell  thee,  Caesar,  this  man  raves.  If  I thought 
my  daughter  guilty  of  treason,  or  if  I,  for  one  minute,  could 
suspect  her  of  what  this  worm  would  impute  to  her  and  rob  her 
of  her  chaste  innocence,  even  in  thought,  I would  strike  her 
to  the  heart  with  this  dagger,  which  I shall  bury  into  thy  foul 
vitals,  Antonius ! ” Thus  speaking,  he  closed  on  Antonius 
and  before  it  could  be  prevented  he  had  thrust  the  dagger 
upon  Antonius,  but  it  fell  and  only  struck  his  uplifted  hand 
which  he  had  raised  in  fear  and  shame.  The  people  shrieked 
themselves  hoarse  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that  they  were  held 
back.  u Down  with  Antonius  ! ” they  cried,  as  the  guards  sur- 
rounded Marcus  and  chained  his  hands.  Lydia  swooned  in 
Yincinnius  arms,  who  bade  her  be  brave  and  all  would  be  well, 
as  he  soothed  her  with  gentle  words. 

Yincinnius  now  was  ordered  forward,  and  he  walked 
bravely,  gazing  at  Nero  with  eyes  that  burnt  like  fire  into  this 
tyrant’s  soul. 


35 


Caesar  smiled.  “ Thou  art  young,  boy,  I would  spare  thy 
life.  Thou  hast  health,  youth,  comeliness ; I will  give  thee 
riches,  make  thee  great,  I promise  thee  anything  in  my  power 
to  grant,  if  thou  wilt  reveal  to  me  the  hiding  place  of  thy  ac- 
cursed sect  of  conspirators,  and  if  thou  wilt  renounce  thy  God.” 

u Never ! ” Vincinnius  answered,  his  clear,  young  voice 
resounding  like  a bell  over  the  silent  throng.  u I fear  thee  not, 
O Caesar!  and  we  Christiaus  do  not  conspire  against  thee.  We 
are  peaceful,  but  will  not  bow  down  in  adoration  before  wood 
and  marble,  for  we  adore  the  one  true  God,  Jesus  Christ,  the 
Redeemer  and  Ruler  of  the  world.” 

Caesar  scowled  and  cried  out : u Infamous  boy  ! Thou  re- 
fusest  my  gifts,  defiest  the  gods  and  my  power  before  the  whole 
of  Rome  ! Take  him,”  he  ordered,  u put  him  on  the  rack,  and 
make  him  confess.” 

“ Ye  gods  ! Be  merciful,  O Caesar  ! he  is  so  young  ! ” cried 
Marcus.  “ See,  Caesar,  on  my  knees  before  thee,  I plead  for 
mercy  for  this  boy.” 

Caesar  heeded  not,  and  Vincinnius  was  dragged  away  as 
Lydia  clung  to  him  and  her  cries  rent  the  hearts  of  many  there. 

Lydia  flung  herself  at  the  feet  of  Caesar’s  throne.  u O, 
mighty  Caesar  ! ’tis  my  birthday  ! ” she  cried,  “ but  a fortnight 
since,  thou  didst  promise  me  any  gift  I named ; now  grant  me 
the  life  of  my  father  and  that  of  Vincinnius.” 

u What  ? ” exclaimed  Caesar,  rising  from  his  throne  and 
standing  amazed,  looking  down  at  the  girl  in  abasement  at  his 
feet.  u Lydia,  thou  on  thy  knees  before  me,  thou  pleading  for 
a Christian’s  boy’s  life  ? Could  Antonius  have  spoken  the 
truth  T ” 

u No,  Caesar ! ” again  cried  Marcus.  u I tell  thee  again 
he  lies,  and  thou  knowest  it  well.”  And  as  he  spoke  the  groans 
of  Vincinnius  pierced  through  space  and  chilled  the  hearts  of 
even  hardened  Romans.  “ Listen  to  his  cries  ! ” said  Marcus. 
u Hast  thou  a heart  of  stone,  thou  tyrant  ? ” he  hissed  at  Nero, 
and  Nero,  livid  with  rage,  trembled  where  he  stood. 

Vincinnius,  carried  back  by  guards,  was  placed  limped  and 


36 


well-nigh  lifeless  on  the  ground,  where  he  lay  moaning  low,  and 
with  blood  streaming  from  his  lij)S.  Lydia  caressed  him  and  lay 
his  head  on  her  lap  whilst  Marcus  let  the  boy’s  body  rest  on  his 
knees,  as  the  crowd  murmured  angrily  like  the  lashing  of  the 
waves  portending  a storm.  u He  still  refuses  to  confess  or  to 
give  up  his  faith  ! ” questioned  Nero  of  the  guard. 

u Aye,  mighty  Caesar,  his  lips  were  sealed,”  answered  the 
guard. 

u Ye  gods ! what  courage  ? ” said  Caesar,  and  he  turned 
away  as  though  the  sight  sickened  him.  “ When  he  revives, 
throw  him  into  the  pot  of  boiling  oil,  and  then  he  might  grow 
more  submissive,”  commanded  Caesar. 

u Inhuman  monster ! ” cried  Marcus,  goaded  to  desperation. 
u Thou  butcher  and  coward ! ” at  these  words,  the  friends  of 
Caesar  rose  and  Antonius  came  threateningly  forward  as  though 
to  smite  Marcus. 

u Back  ! I say  ! ” howled  Marcus  to  Antonius.  u Thou  cur, 
I fear  thee  not,  strike  if  thou  durst ! seducer  and  hypocrite, 
traitorous  friend  ! ” Then  lifting  his  shackled  hands  menacingly 
and  defiently  to  Caesar,  he  continued  : “ Listen,  Caesar,  for  the 
last  time,  and  hear,  O people  of  Rome.  This  man — your  Caesar, 
called  Nero  — years  ago  boasted  of  my  friendship.  A brave 
Roman  general,  my  most  devoted  companion  in  arms,  Petronius, 
whom  you  all  knew  well,  one  day  saved  your  Caesar’s  life  from 
an  assassin’s  hand,  that  of  a trusted  slave.  He  himself  caught 
the  blow,  and  lay  long  wounded  at  death’s  door.  Petronius 
and  his  family  embraced  the  Christian  faith,  and  Caesar,  the 
great,  the  noble  emperor  of  Rome,  rewarded  him  and  his  dear 
ones  with  death.  Yincinnius  was  an  infant,  I pleaded  for  his 
life,  the  august  Caesar  heard  my  prayer,  I sought  to  have  this 
child  made  mine,  but  Caesar  thrust  him  like  a dog  into  the  cold 
one  night,  aye,  stole  him  from  my  very  house,  when  I picked 
him  up  and  gave  him  to  a Christian  woman  to  raise.  This  babe 
was  Yincinnius.  Now,  he  would  kill  this  boy,  forsooth,  because 
he  is  loyal  to  his  promises,  true  to  his  God  ! I tell  thee,  Caesar, 
I hate  thee  and  Rome,  for  thou  art  a dissolute  tyrant,  and  Rome 


37 


a bed  of  vice  and  corruption  ; thy  friends  that  fawn  on  thee  are 
traitors,  and  thy  gods,  false  dumb  images  of  nothingness.  My 
daughter,  my  dear  Lydia,  is  a Christian,  she  told  me  with  her 
own  lips  last  night.  She  did  try  to  save  the  Christians,  but 
she  warned  them  too  late.  She  is  not  the  vile  thing  that  traitor 
Antonius  would  dare  say.  I now  renounce  thy  gods,  I turn  my 
back  on  thee  and  Rome.  Farewell  forever ! Before  all,  I 
acknowledge  Christ,  the  God  of  the  Christians,  and  will  receive 
mercy  and  life  eternal  from  Him,  but  not  from  thee,  O Caesar ! 
nor  thy  idols  of  stone.  With  Lydia  and  Vincinnius,  I go  brave- 
ly to  death.” 

Silence,  awful  and  impenetrable,  reigned  supreme,  but  now 
it  broke  into  angry  mutterings  from  the  mob,  who  cried  out : 
u Free  them,  O Caesar  ! ” whilst  a few  screamed  : u Traitors,  to 
the  death  with  them  ! long  live  Caesar  ! ” 

Caesar  paled  and  quailed  before  the  speech  of  Marcus  which 
cut  him  like  a sword  thrust.  He  caught  hold  of  his  chair  for 
support,  whilst  the  words  of  Marcus  rung  in  his  ears  and  beat 
against  his  breast  like  the  wings  of  a bird  battling  against  a 
rock,  and  wounding  itself  at  every  blow.  His  eyes  rolled  wildly 
about,  a look  of  pity  for  an  instant  trembled  around  the  corners 
of  his  sensual  lips  as  he  cried  out : “ Marcus,  Marcus,  why  hast 
thou  done  this  ? ” Then  remembering  himself,  his  pity  turned 
to  hate,  and  in  a loud  voice,  husky  with  passion,  he  cried : u To 
death  with  the  traitors  ! ” 

Then  he  descended  his  throne  slowly  and  heavily  as  if  the 
weight  of  a hundred  years  of  crime  were  pressing  him  down  to 
the  earth.  The  guards  took  their  prisoners.  Marcus  embraced 
Lydia  and  Vincinnius,  as  taking  their  hands  in  his,  he  joined  them 
together  and  said  : u O Christ,  look  down  and  bless  these  two.” 
He  murmured  a prayer  looking  up  to  the  clear  blue  sky,  where 
he  knew  peace  awaited  them.  They  were  led  away  and  each 
was  thrown  into  a seething  pot  of  oil.  A splashing  of  their 
bodies  was  heard  as  they  fell  into  the  pots $ a piercing  cry  from 
Lydia  echoed  over  the  place,  a cry  so  awful  that  Nero  turned 
and  placing  his  hands  over  his  ears  to  shut  out  the  dreadful 


38 


sound,  hurriedly  left  the  scene.  A few  groans  like  the  sough  of 
winter  winds  in  pain,  and  then  three  souls  had  won  victorious 
martyr’s  crowns,  as  they  winged  their  flight  heavenwards,  and 
smiled  from  above  as  Nero  went  back  to  scheme  and  plot  more 
cruelty  and  to  shed  more  Christian  blood. 

The  crowd  was  dispersing,  when  a deep  darkness  suddenly 
gathered,  lightning  scarred  the  vault  of  heaven  with  forked 
flames,  a low,  rumbling  noise  was  heard,  the  earth  shook,  as 
Mount  iEtna  convulsed,  and  Rome  trembled  while  many  statues 
in  the  market  place  fell  crashing  to  the  ground,  as  though 
shamed  and  frightened  at  the  crimes  that  had  just  been  en- 
acted. Nero  heard  the  noise,  and  grew  afraid,  as  he  covered 
his  head  with  his  mantle,  and  sunk  back  exhausted  on  his  litter. 


